Out of a Dream
by Moontalk
Summary: Nathaniel and Etta do their best to keep far and away from each other, but nothing ever works. If they aren't thrown together at school or tripping over one another around town, they always have the dreams to deal with. (Soul Mate AU, M, NatXOC)


_So...I don't know how many of you are familiar with or fans of soul mate AUs, but this is one I'll bet you haven't seen before! I took down my stories a long time ago and I haven't written anything since, but I really like how this one is coming out. If you guys like this chapter I'd be thrilled to share the rest. R &R to let me know!_

* * *

She's above him, rocking her hips into his in a slow, maddening twist. Upright, with his hands clawing into her waist, she's smiling, humming her pleasure with each rotation and Nathaniel is straining to hear her noises over his own panting. The French were right; this must feel like dying. Every time is the same. Every time gets better and so much worse.

"You're going to make me cum in my shorts, at this rate." He groans because he really is close. Then he groans again when she suddenly rolls away and leaves him wanting.

"Sorry," She says, though he knows she's lying by the smile pressed to his shoulder.

With his best animal growl Nathaniel launches himself off the couch and down to the floor, catching himself on his hands and knees above her. Gloriously flushed, she shrieks, pretends fleeing, but he has her now. One hand in her hair, the other turning her over by the hip, his mouth on her neck. He kisses her, nips, licks. Just as she is starting to push back into him, he shifts to her shoulder and sinks his teeth into soft, soft skin. Her whole body trembles. A loud moan erupts from her throat and Nathaniel has to scramble to cover her mouth. He nearly gags her with a handful of her own red hair. He tells her to be quiet. "Don't want them to come and investigate, do you?"

Their roles are reversed now. Nathaniel is rocking against her while she is arching, pressing herself into him for that extra friction. Then she slumps forward and her fingers busy themselves at the waistband of her jeans. It's the best damned idea ever so Nathaniel flicks open his own fly, but stops her before she can shimmy her pants past her knees. He wants her like this – still mostly dressed, deviant and desperate. A condom appears from the depths of a pocket, rolls over his length so he can tease her entrance. She is so wet for him, still pressing her face to the soft carpet where they kneel, her hands otherwise occupied clutching the bunched denim over his thighs, pulling him closer.

Suddenly he is inside her, tight, tight, tight. They are moaning and panting, gasping, whispering in a chorus of heat and want. "Oh, God…Oh my god…" The more she talks, the closer she is to cumming. Nathaniel knows what face she'll make when he tips her over the edge. He knows how she'll squeeze him. The filthy things she'll coo so sweetly to coax him into following her. His arm loops under her chest and he lifts her, pulls her back against him.

"Nate…so good…fuck me." A hand wraps around the back of his neck. She's pulling his hair until it stings. His body is drawing taught and this can't last forever. A few flicks of her clit and she's nearly incoherent, greedy, blissful, a quick pinch – a bit harder – and she's tumbling down. He can't hold on, not with the way her body quakes and grips him inside, and he lowers them to the floor before they fall.

Grappling for a breath, she pulls away, turns to grin at him. He's limp limbed and happy. God, he's happy. Just as he's about to say…something…tease her about the knot of hair on the side of her head, or the carpet burn on her cheekbone, he wakes up.

* * *

Nathaniel woke to find the sun in his eyes, an ache in his head and boxer briefs stuck to his skin. When this happened last week he thought it was really becoming a problem. Now it was definitely a problem. He could hear his family's housekeeper, Anna, vacuuming somewhere downstairs. There was no way she wouldn't come to change his bedclothes like she did every week.

Keeping an ear open to the goings on in the rest of the house, Nathaniel jumped out of bed, shucking his underwear into his sheets as he went. After a pit stop at his dresser to wipe himself off with a towel and pull on some fresh clothes he was at the foot of his bed, stripping away layers of linens. He bunched them all together, worked a hand free to open the door and hurried his load down to the laundry room. As he passed the kitchen, Nathaniel spotted his mother drinking her morning coffee, but she didn't seem to notice him. Happily, he stuffed everything into the washing machine – spraying some stain remover where it was needed – and ran a cold cycle. This sort of thing was happening so often lately he wondered if he shouldn't try to talk his parents into investing in dry cleaning equipment.

It didn't make any sense. Nathaniel was seventeen and had long since gained a sense of control after the unavoidable chaos that is every boy's pubescent life when this all began. He could remember that first dream, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lighting of the high school bathroom, the absolutely visceral sensation of a mouth on his cock and long, soft hair in his hands. He'd thought nothing of it. Maybe the feelings had been a bit intense and the girl's face particularly detailed, but he'd had plenty of dreams and fantasies of similar situations with pretty girls around town and faceless models who filled a need.

This shouldn't have been any different, but it was. He saw the same girl, night after night from then on. Not every night, but most. Sometimes he woke hard and others he'd have to do this dance with the laundry. Always, the scenes were…thorough, and showed a sort of deviance Nathaniel couldn't remember feeling in years. He had fucked his dream girl in the most public places, her imaginary family's living room, his sister's bed, outside under sun and stars, and in nearly every position he knew. If it didn't end soon, he was sure to go mad.

There was still another hour before school started, but if he wanted to get his morning duties as student body president finished on time, Nathaniel knew he'd need to leave soon. He made his way into the kitchen, desperately hungry after…well, all of that. His mom was still sitting at the granite topped island, sipping at her coffee. She eyed him as he passed in front of her. "You'll be late if you don't get dressed soon." She remarked offhandedly. Nathaniel was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, clothes he had grabbed in a hurry. They were perfectly suitable for the school dress code, but he had never once worn them outside of weekends.

He sighed, already tired from all that could be expected of him throughout the day. "You're right. I'll go do that." She didn't respond, but nodded vaguely and pulled her phone from the pocket of her skirt. Luckily, Anna was finished vacuuming and was happy enough to make some toast for Nathaniel when he asked on his way upstairs.

The uniform his parents enforced waited in his closet: a button-up shirt, khakis, dress shoes and a tie. He felt himself growing miserably old just looking at it all, but pushed himself into motion still. Buttons buttoned, zipper zipped, tie tied, hair slicked into place, he was eventually ready. Anna handed his breakfast over at the door. She had slathered on some strawberry jam and for once that morning Nathaniel found a reason to smile.

* * *

Principal Shermansky reminded him twenty minutes after Nathaniel sat at his desk in the student council office that there would be a transfer student arriving today. He would need to delegate a little if he was going to be giving a tour of the grounds. Melody was always eager to help him, but he was reluctant to rely on her. She made it seem like filing and agendas were somehow romantic.

By the time the principal returned with a student in tow, Nathaniel had already handed off paperwork to his vice president and two class reps, sorted out a paper jam in the library's printer, hunted down a replacement bulb for a light in the boy's locker room, and helped to scatter diatomaceous earth in the green house. He'd stained the cuff on one sleeve of his shirt and badly wanted a nap – and it was only 7:45. One look at the girl who seemed almost to be hiding behind Mrs. Shermansky, and he wanted instead to crawl into the deepest hole in the ground he could find.

It was her. The dream girl, the one he had imagined. He thought for a wild moment he was fantasizing about her in the daytime now, but the principal was talking to her and she was nodding and everything seemed so very real. Shermansky addressed him and the girl's eyes suddenly met his and Nathaniel was overcome with certainty. This was it. This was how he was finally going to break.


End file.
